


every step that i take

by mixians



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixians/pseuds/mixians
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-apocalyptic!au. (sort of.) after the spread of a deadly epidemic, joonmyun loses everything. but maybe—maybe, he hasn't lost jongdae just yet. written for aideshou @ lj</p>
            </blockquote>





	every step that i take

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to daisy and justin for all of your help!!! you guys are the best, seriously ♥  
> bgm, maybe? lana del rey's [born to die](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bag1gUxuU0g)

Joonmyun’s cold. Has been for ages, really; it feels like it’s been years since the last time he had a blanket to sleep under at night. Today the bitter wind nips at his cheeks, nose, and the tips of his ears, and he tries his hardest not to shiver. Shivering is bad. Shivering is a sign that you might be Sick. And if the other passengers on this train think he’s Sick, he’s done for. Everyone’s hyperaware of the people around them, always on the lookout, all fearing the very same thing. Nobody wants to be the next to die.

Despite the fact that the train is almost full of people, it’s terribly silent inside. The only sounds are that of the train moving and people shuffling around. No one dares to talk for fear their voices will come out too hoarse, everyone swallowing their coughs, trying not to sneeze if their noses itch. There’s a thick layer of tension in the air, and it makes Joonmyun squirm in his seat uncomfortably.

The train is old, but most things are, nowadays. The previously-white paint on the walls is now yellow and peeling, and the wood parts of the train are rotting; there are holes in the ceiling, and Joonmyun thinks that if it were still back _then_ , he’d worry about what might happen if it rained. But it doesn’t rain anymore.

It’s a question of how far they’ll get, really, before the train breaks down or they run out of oil. Everyone here wants to get away, away from Seoul, maybe to China if they can. From what Joonmyun’s heard, there will be no resistance going through North Korea; everyone there is dead. Maybe a couple of survivors, but they won’t risk picking anybody else up. No one knows how far the Sickness has spread. No one knows anything, just that everyone needs to be on guard.

A woman comes in with bottles of distilled water and bread. Joonmyun takes the water and watches as a few desperate people devour the bread, everyone else holding off because bread isn’t safe. Not much is safe anymore, just things like canned food and instant meals, and those are a rarity. Some people would kill for just one can of spam. It’s just a matter of time before clean water runs out too, but Joonmyun’s at least got a purifier. Most people aren’t so lucky.

Joonmyun wraps his arms tighter around himself as night falls and it gets even colder than before, colder than he ever remembers it being. He’s never lived somewhere without heating, and even though it’s been who-knows-how-long since he’s had it, he still isn’t used to the bitter cold, the cold that chills him down to his bones.

The stars are nice, though. Without all the bright city lights of Seoul, they shine bright in the dark sky, and Joonmyun likes to look out the window at night at watch as they go past. Joonmyun’s always wanted to see the stars; his parents took him camping when he was young, but never to somewhere too sparsely populated, never somewhere without the lights. No matter how many times he sees them like this, the stars never fail to amaze him.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, leaning against the windowsill of the train car; the glass of the window is long gone, and the wind ruffles Joonmyun’s hair as the train moves.

“Isn’t it?” says someone else, coming up to stand beside him. Joonmyun looks over to see Lu Han, the exchange student from China that Jongdae used to be friends with—used to be.

“Yeah,” Joonmyun says. “It is.”

“How have you been?” Lu Han asks conversationally, so casually that you’d never imagine that everyone dear to him was _dead_. “How have you been coping? With this.”

 _This_. No one wants to say it out loud, and no one knows exactly what to call it; it’s just the Sickness, it’s just _this_.

“As well as anyone else,” Joonmyun sighs. It’s so nice to be able to talk to someone again; after weeks of silence, it’s almost like everything’s back to normal. If it weren’t for the fact that both of them are dirty and exhausted from countless sleepless nights, and the knowledge that they’re slowly starving to death. Joonmyun wishes he’d taken the bread, even if it’s not safe. “And you?”

“I’m okay,” Lu Han says. “I’m just sick of being here. I didn’t know you were here, actually—didn’t look around enough to spot you.”

“Neither did I,” Joonmyun admits, a little embarrassed. This all would’ve felt a lot less bleak knowing that he had someone to stick with, but at least he knows he’s got Lu Han now. Even if they don’t know each other all that well. “But now we know. If this thing breaks down… Let’s stay together, okay?”

“Yeah,” Lu Han says, and they pinky swear on it, pressing their thumbs together like Joonmyun used to when he was little. A little bit of warmth spreads through Joonmyun then, and for the first time in weeks, _months_ , he smiles. There’s a faint smile pulling at the corners of Lu Han’s mouth, too. “There’s strength in numbers, right?”

“Right.” Someone mumbles in his sleep, and Joonmyun remembers that they’re in a train car packed full of people, and their private conversation is… not so private. It makes him uncomfortable, that anyone awake could be listening, and he remembers too that there are people out there, maybe here, that are terribly, awfully bitter; so bitter that they’d kill to tear friends apart. But Lu Han’s right—there’s strength in numbers, so if they stick together…

“Sit with me?” Joonmyun asks, and Lu Han nods and smiles, taking a seat next to where Joonmyun had been, squeezing between him and the people around them.

The silence around them now is a little less uncomfortable, a little less uneasy, and it’s not quite as cold when Joonmyun and Lu Han are pressed into each other’s sides. For once, Joonmyun lets his guard down, lets himself drift off even though he’s freezing and his back hurts and he’s scared; for once, it’s not so hard to forget.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

It’s the middle of the day, two weeks later, when they hear it. There’s a terrible screeching sound with every turn of the train’s wheels, loud thumps from what must be the engine ahead, and Joonmyun’s pretty sure that the face of every person in the compartment has gone pale. They don’t stop moving for a little while, maybe another fifteen minutes or so, but everyone knows their ride has come to an end. By the time the driver comes in to explain, most people are standing with their belongings gathered, if they have any at all, and bags slung over their shoulders.

“We passed what _should’ve_ been China’s border some time ago,” says the driver, who looks just as weary as the rest of them, “so just keep walking, and maybe you’ll find someone. Something. Anything.”

Joonmyun looks over at Lu Han, tries to give him as reassuring a smile as he can. Lu Han returns it, but both their smiles are shaky, laced with fear and uncertainty, and they know it.

“Are you ready?” Lu Han asks quietly, looking out at the vast, empty land ahead. It’s like a desert out here, hot and dry, but there aren’t any plants in sight, and it’s supposed to be winter.

“As I’ll ever be,” Joonmyun says. Everyone’s scattered, walking in different directions, and even though they’re not in the train anymore, it’s still ghostly silent. The scrape of Joonmyun’s worn sneakers against the dirt sounds loud in the quiet; every word they say feels like a shout.

Three hours, and they don’t seem any further than before, apart from the fact that the train has been left far behind in the distance, and the rest of the passengers nowhere in sight; but the desert stretches out endlessly in front of them, neverending, and Joonmyun wonders if they’ll ever find anything, even one old signpost or house, if there’s anything more than nothingness out here. And his stamina isn’t what it used to be, especially after months of sitting still in a train. They’re only walking, but sometimes he has to stop and take a break from it, when he feels like he can’t go on anymore.

“Where do you want to go?” Lu Han says, breaking the silence as Joonmyun pulls his bottle of water out, taking the tiniest sips he can. He’s only got two bottles. Lu Han, though, has a secret stash of canned vegetables and spam. Joonmyun’s glad they’ve decided to stick together.

“I don’t know,” Joonmyun says. “Anywhere. Somewhere safe.”

“I,” Lu Han starts, and pauses, swallows. “I want to go home. If it’s still there, I want to go back to Beijing.”

“That’s far. Do you think we’ll make it?”

“I don’t know,” Lu Han says, getting up to go, “but I’ll try.”

Joonmyun follows, and it’s a moment before he asks tentatively, “Do you miss them?”

Lu Han smiles, a little sadly. “Yeah. I haven’t seen them since I left for Seoul.”

“You never went back to visit?” Joonmyun asks. He can’t imagine how that would’ve been; he’d visited his parents every week after moving out, and even then he’d missed them more than he ever expected he would. And now… now is another story.

“No,” Lu Han says, voice tight, “they didn’t want me to. I was their shame of a son, the disappointment. My sister was always the favorite in our family. They didn’t want me around, but I still missed them. Miss them.”

“I’m sorry,” Joonmyun says, and he is. “I can’t imagine. I was an only child.”

“Is it lonely?” Lu Han asks. “I’d always wondered. I think it would be better than being unwanted.”

“A little,” Joonmyun admits, “but I think your parents would be happy to know you’re still here now. I think they’d be proud to have a son like you. Jongdae talked about you, sometimes.”

Lu Han smiles. It makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up a little, and it makes him look all the sadder. “I hope that’s true. Jongdae always did have something decent to say about everyone.”

Joonmyun wonders why he ever brought Jongdae up, when he can’t even think of him without feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes, without his throat getting all tight so he can’t speak anymore. He tries not to let it show when he replies, “That was one of the things I loved most about him,” but Lu Han looks over, and he’s pretty sure his expression gives it away anyways.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Han says, and laces their fingers together as they walk, grip on Joonmyun’s hand firm.

Joonmyun smiles a little, holds Lu Han’s hand a little tighter. He doesn’t cry, and they don’t speak.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

They walk for hours, days, _weeks_ , and still all around them is the same emptiness, the same rough ground, the same deafening silence. It feels endless, and Joonmyun tells himself he’s not losing hope, he’s _not_ , but by the fourth week, he knows it’s slipping. They’re halfway through Lu Han’s supply of canned food, and their bottles of water are nearly empty. But the fourth week, too, is when they spot it.

“What’s that?” Lu Han says, pointing at something in the distance, and it’s undeniable—it’s _something_ , something that’s not just their imagination. Something that’s more than just the occasional bits of debris they find. It looks different. He takes a few steps towards it before breaking into a run, and Joonmyun follows as closely as he can. They’re both panting by the time they reach it, and it’s a few moments before Lu Han bends over to pick it up, brushing the dust off of it. Joonmyun can hardly believe his eyes.

“Glass,” Joonmyun whispers in awe, turning the bottle over in his hands, feeling the weight of it when Lu Han hands it to him. It’s been ages since he’s seen glass like this, not since before glass was introduced as a new energy source, and the government had been desperate enough to collect all that they needed to keep the country running. There’s water inside, it looks like, and it’s _clear_. And a slip of paper is tied to the neck; on it, someone has scrawled, “Drink Me.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Lu Han frowns, leaning over Joonmyun's shoulder to read it as well.

"Maybe as a last resort. When—if we run out of water."

"Yeah," Lu Han says, cracking a smile, "hopefully we'll have made it to China before that ever happens."

"Definitely," Joonmyun says easily, but they both know it's unlikely.

They’re out of water by the time night falls, even though they’ve tried to drink as sparingly as they can, the sun’s too hot and their throats are too dry, and the last few centimeters of water left in their bottles disappear, just like that. There’s not even a drop left.

Lu Han turns and gives Joonmyun a look, pulling the heavy glass bottle out of his bag. “I guess we’ll have to give it a try, won’t we?”

“I guess so,” Joonmyun says, and he takes the first sip. It’s tentative at first, but he lets himself drink a little more than he would, almost laughing in relief because it’s _water_ , clean water, probably the cleanest he’s had in ages. Lu Han takes a sip, too, and grins at him over the rim of the bottle, carefully capping it so not a drop spills. Joonmyun knows what they’re both thinking. Maybe, just maybe, they have a chance at making it now.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Joonmyun wakes up somewhere strange. There’s grass all around, and the sky is clear, the air cool the way it hasn’t been in years, and Joonmyun can hardly believe it. It’s incredible, the way the colors all around him seem so vivid, the way vines climb up the trellises all along the walls, the way flowers are blooming from bushes nearby; it’s everything Joonmyun used to take for granted, everything he never thought he’d see again. There’s a fountain nearby, and Joonmyun rushes over, washes all the dirt from his face, the grit from the corners of his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he’d been able to do that. He must be dreaming.

“You need a shower,” someone says, and when Joonmyun turns around, he freezes in place. He’s just imagining things, he’s sure of it, because there’s no way he’s really seeing him, that familiar kittenish smile, the same old playful glint in his eye—it’s impossible, it just can’t be—

“Hyung,” Jongdae sighs, pulling him into that same warm embrace, and Joonmyun _knows_ he’s dreaming now. Dreaming. “I missed you.”

Joonmyun can’t stop himself from replying, “I missed you too,” and clutching Jongdae even tighter, like he might disappear at any moment. And, Joonmyun thinks, he really could.

“Why are you at the park? Where have you been?” Jongdae says. Joonmyun wishes he could answer. “It’s lonely here, without you. Even though I’ve still got most of the others. They’re good company, but it’s not the same without you here, you know? It’s not as fun when I can’t tease you like always.”

“I wish I could be here all the time,” Joonmyun says honestly, and Jongdae frowns.

“Why wish when you _can_? Why don’t you just stay?”

Joonmyun doesn’t know what to say to that. And, well. Right now doesn’t seem like a good time to tell Jongdae that he’s been dead for almost six months now, that Jongdae can’t be real. _Isn’t_ real. That Joonmyun’s pretty sure he’s dreaming.

“Hyung? Where’s your head today? You’re just as bad as Yixing,” Jongdae grins, giving him a little shove. “Want to come back to the apartment? We’re watching a movie tonight. And… have you heard from Lu Han lately? It’d be nice if he could come, too.”

“No,” Joonmyun chokes, “I—I haven’t. I don’t know where Lu Han is.”

“Oh,” Jongdae says, frowning again. Joonmyun’s missed that frown. “Maybe we’ll see him next time, then. I’ve missed him, too.”

“I’m sure you have,” Joonmyun murmurs as Jongdae pulls him away, down a familiar path, up to their old apartment; it looks just the way Joonmyun remembers. It’s the same on the inside too, just the way it always looked when everyone came over back then, shoes piled messily near the front, empty bottles and cans of beer on the counter. But this isn’t real, Joonmyun reminds himself. It can’t be. It’s just a dream.

But it doesn’t feel so dreamlike when all of his closest friends are around him, welcoming him, asking where he’s been, and all he can do is smile in response because _god_ , he’s missed them. Someone starts _Mulan_ , Baekhyun makes stupid jokes, Zitao kicks him in the shins, and Joonmyun can barely hear the sounds of the movie over all of the chaos. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

Joonmyun falls asleep sprawled out on the couch, Jongdae’s head pillowed on his chest, someone’s foot pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder as the movie keeps on playing in the background. Yeah, he thinks as everything starts to slip away around him, he’s missed this. Maybe, this time, he won’t have to leave.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

When Joonmyun wakes again, the sun is shining far too bright, the air is too dry, and immediately he knows he's not _there_ anymore. He can still feel Jongdae’s arms wrapped around him, Jongdae’s breath fanning across Joonmyun’s face; it feels too real to have been a dream, but that’s all it could have been.

Lu Han’s sitting up on his left, rubbing his eyes. There are tear tracks drying on his face. When the two of them lock eyes, Joonmyun can tell they both realize the same thing—it’s far, far too late in the day to be waking up. The way the sun is beating down on them says it’s just past noon, and for once Joonmyun feels incredibly rested. And Lu Han looks a lot better than usual.

“Did you,” Joonmyun starts, and Lu Han nods.

“I dreamed.”

And if they had the same one, maybe that could mean— “What did you dream of?” Joonmyun asks.

“I dreamed… I made it back home. And my parents were there. My father smiled the way I haven’t seen him smile since I was a child, and my mother hugged me, just the way I remember she used to. My sister…” Lu Han has an almost dreamy smile on his face, and it’s a little frightening, because that’s how Joonmyun feels like smiling, too. “She was happily married, almost out of grad school. She said she missed me. It was so _real_. Everything I wanted.” And now Lu Han looks crushed, like reality’s finally hitting him, like he’s realizing that _right, it isn’t real. It was just a dream._

“What did you dream of?” he says quietly, and Joonmyun smiles sadly at his feet.

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun says simply, “and everyone else. We watched a movie.”

There’s a silence, and Lu Han stands, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “Let’s not,” he says, as if he’s _forcing_ himself to say it, “let’s not drink that water again.”

Joonmyun nods in agreement. “Should we throw it away?” he asks, but he finds he doesn’t really want to.

Lu Han doesn’t look like he wants to either. “Well, it’s glass. Maybe we should keep it, just for that?”

“Yeah,” Joonmyun says easily. That sounds like a good idea. “Maybe when we get to the city, it’ll be valuable. And whatever’s inside it, too.”

“Yeah,” Lu Han says, and then they don’t talk anymore. They don’t talk for the rest of the day, really, and Joonmyun spends their time walking replaying parts of the dream over and over again, wishing so, _so_ desperately to be back there again.

And when night falls, after Lu Han has fallen fast asleep, Joonmyun pulls the bottle out and takes another sip.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

He’s back. Joonmyun can’t help the smile that spreads wide across his face when he finds Jongdae curled up against his chest, wrapped up in the blankets they bought when they first moved into this apartment. Jongdae stirs a little under his gaze, smiling up at him with half-lidded eyes. Joonmyun wonders if he’ll ever get over how much he’s missed that smile.

“You’re still here,” Jongdae mumbles, voice laced with sleep.

Joonmyun frowns a little at that. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae says. “I was afraid you’d disappear. You… didn’t feel real.”

Something that feels a lot like guilt bubbles up inside of Joonmyun, and he forces a grin and says, “That’s silly. Why wouldn’t I feel real?”

Jongdae huffs. “I don’t know. Stop asking me hard questions. It’s too early in the morning for this.” Joonmyun grins again, for real this time, and then Jongdae adds, “And you smell,” and shoves Joonmyun unceremoniously off the bed.

Laughing, Joonmyun stumbles to the shower, and even though it’s been a few years since he’s used one of these, it feels familiar. And it’s amazing the way it feels to be finally clean, to look at his skin and not see dirt. At least he can have this now, even if it’s just in his dreams. His really, really realistic dreams.

Breakfast is a luxury—Joonmyun never did think he’d miss kimchi and rice so much. Even when Jongdae burns the meat a little, it still tastes amazing.

“You eat like you’ve been starving for years,” Jongdae laughs. Joonmyun’s sure he has no idea just how close to the truth that is. “I’ve always thought I was pretty decent, but I’m not _that_ good.”

“You are,” Joonmyun says. “I swear, this is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes and laughs, stealing a bit of Joonmyun’s rice from his bowl. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” Joonmyun grins.

Jongdae tosses his chopsticks at him. “Oh, shut up.”

They spend the day doing the most mundane of things, and Joonmyun loves it. Every now and then he finds himself pulling Jongdae into his arms, even at the most inopportune of times—when they’re making lunch, when Jongdae’s busy reading something for school, and even when Jongdae’s just stepped out of the shower.

“What’s wrong with you today,” Jongdae says with a laugh, leaning back into Joonmyun as he looks for something to wear. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joonmyun says sincerely, and Jongdae turns around and gives him this _look_. Like he knows. But he can’t, he can’t, because this is just a dream, and in his dreams, Jongdae doesn’t know he’s dead, or that Joonmyun’s probably just having dreams like this because he’s well on his way to dying of malnutrition and dehydration. And because of that strange water. This is _Joonmyun_ ’s dream, isn’t it? Jongdae can’t know if Joonmyun doesn’t want him to. Right?

Jongdae sends him out to buy some milk in the late afternoon, and he’s just stepping out the door when he feels someone shaking him by the shoulders. “Joonmyun, Joonmyun,” says a voice, fraught with panic, and Joonmyun starts to turn around, and—

He opens his eyes to find Lu Han staring down at him, sweat dripping from his temples in the hot sun, looking more worried than Joonmyun’s ever seen him. Right, he’s just been dreaming. _This_ is reality. Right.

“Good morning?” Joonmyun says, sitting up just as Lu Han leans forward and hugs him tight.

“Thank god,” Lu Han breathes, “I thought you were dead. You were asleep for so long! What happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Joonmyun says. He’s a bad liar, and by the look on Lu Han’s face, he can tell, but he doesn’t say anything. Just pulls a little bit of food out of his bag and hands it to Joonmyun before standing up and gesturing for Joonmyun to do the same.

“Eat while we walk,” Lu Han says. “We’ve already lost enough time these last two days. We need to get going, if we ever want to make it to Beijing.”

Joonmyun nods and follows, trying to shake the memory of Jongdae’s fingers lingering on the nape of his neck, the scent of him after a shower that seems to stay with Joonmyun, even though he’s not dreaming anymore. This shouldn’t be happening. It’s just a _dream_. Joonmyun needs to clear his head a little.

Lu Han sets a brisk pace for the day, and they keep walking even when it gets dark, even though they usually stop by the time it’s dusk. Joonmyun tries his best to focus on keeping up, but even though he’s not clean and his throat is terribly dry the way it never was when he was with Jongdae, he feels like he’s still stuck in that dream. And with every step he takes, Joonmyun only wants to go back even more.

Sometimes Lu Han looks at him like he wants to say something, and Joonmyun knows what it is, knows what lie he’ll tell him if he asks, but every time Lu Han just turns away, shakes his head, and keeps walking. They don’t say anything for a while, not until they’re laying on their backs on the ground and Joonmyun’s trying his best not to drift off because he hasn’t had that one sip of water yet, and he can’t sleep until he has—he _can’t_.

“Do you think,” Lu Han says quietly, “it’s the right thing? Torturing yourself with a reality that isn’t yours anymore? Even if it could be killing you on the inside?”

“Maybe not,” Joonmyun says, “but I can’t—I don’t think I can stop myself.”

Lu Han looks over at him sympathetically. “I know. I felt it, too. It pulls you back, doesn’t it? Just the _bottle_ has a weird pull to it. After I woke up yesterday, I started to wonder. If maybe someone was _meant_ to find it.”

“Do you think so?” Joonmyun says thoughtfully, staring up at the stars. They’re so bright tonight. “But if someone was meant to find it… Maybe that was us. Maybe we were the ones that needed it most.”

“Maybe,” Lu Han says. And when Joonmyun digs into the bag for the bottle again, he doesn’t say a word.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Joonmyun wakes in the kitchen, slumped over the counter, back aching like it did on the train all those weeks ago. Jongdae’s made breakfast again.

“Morning,” Jongdae says, and Joonmyun smiles at him, a little weakly. For all the things he’s said to Lu Han about this, he knows this isn’t right. For him, and for Jongdae. If he’s real. But Joonmyun just isn’t sure that he can do what he knows he has to. “I can’t believe you fell asleep on the kitchen counter. Idiot. What were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Joonmyun laughs. It sounds forced. Jongdae looks over at him, brows furrowed.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You sound a little weird today.” Jongdae, Joonmyun notices, looks a little sad, too. A little like he’s waiting for something.

“I’m just,” Joonmyun says haltingly, “thinking. What if one day… I couldn’t come back? What if I wasn’t back for a long time?”

“Why are you saying that?” Jongdae frowns, reaching over to smooth his hair a little bit. It must be sticking up. “Are you leaving?”

“No—well, I don’t know,” Joonmyun sighs. “Maybe.”

Jongdae looks at him searchingly, almost pleadingly. “Can you tell me why?”

“No,” Joonmyun says quietly, but from the way Jongdae’s looking at him, it’s almost like he already knows. “But if one day I don’t come back… Not for a long time… I’m sorry.”

“Do you have to go?” Jongdae whispers, voice shaky. His eyes look a little glassy, and Joonmyun has to force himself not to take it all back. Joonmyun has only seen Jongdae cry twice, once the first time they fought, and the next time when his cat had to be put down after catching the Sickness. He never thought he’d see this happen again, and he never wanted to. And the fact that it’s Joonmyun's own fault only makes it even worse.

“Maybe,” Joonmyun says, reaching out to wipe a stray tear from Jongdae’s face, and he wishes it wouldn’t have to be so hard. Jongdae tilts his head up, presses a soft kiss against Joonmyun’s lips, and gives him a faint smile.

“If you’re leaving,” he says, “maybe we should make the most of the time we have.”

Joonmyun can’t bring himself to refuse.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

As it turns out, there’s something in the bread Lu Han took from the train. They’ve kept it in his bag all this time, neither of them daring to eat it, but today, it’s all that’s left. That and one last can of spam, which they split; it’s just a small piece of bread, though, so Lu Han lets him take it. Lu Han had most of the tuna yesterday, so it’s only fair, isn’t it? But as soon as they get up to walk, Joonmyun feels it—the awful churning in his stomach, the urge to vomit, but the inability to do so. It’s all been described in the books, in the Sickness prevention pamphlets they used to hand out. _How can I know if I have the Sickness? How can it be prevented?_ Joonmyun remembers them so clearly. He and Jongdae had followed the steps outlined to a tee, at Joonmyun’s urging, but—

Suddenly, it’s far too cold outside, even though Lu Han says it’s a nice morning. “Not too hot, for once,” he tells Joonmyun with a grin. Joonmyun tries his hardest to smile back at him. Lu Han frowns. “Are you okay? You look a little… pale.” He whispers the last word, realization settling over his features, and Joonmyun nods before Lu Han can say anything.

“It’s exactly what you think it is,” he says, and his voice comes out so hoarse, so raspy, even though it had been fine when he woke up, if a little rough with sleep.

Lu Han’s face crumples. “Fuck,” he whispers, running his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have given you that bread. I knew I shouldn’t have. This can’t be happening, not _now_.” Joonmyun just shakes his head. It’s over, isn’t it? He’ll be dead by the time night falls, surely. Once you’ve got the Sickness, you’ll last a week, max—and that’s with proper food and water.

They’ve been walking three hours when they first see the houses. They’re just tiny dots in the distance, but there are so many of them, and as they get closer it’s even easier to tell what they are; Lu Han lets out a whoop of joy, and Joonmyun feels his heart rise up in his throat, feels his breathing speed up even before he starts sprinting along with Lu Han, sprinting for miles and miles until they’ve reached the edge of what looks to be a small village. It’s just like Joonmyun remembers the smallest villages in Korea to be, small and worn down but bustling and full of people taking care of their day’s business. Just like he remembers. Here, it feels almost like the entirety of Korea _hasn’t_ been wiped out by a lethal epidemic, like half of China probably hasn’t been killed by it, too.

Already Joonmyun feels like he might collapse, and it’s terribly cold, even though the sun is shining bright in the sky, and Lu Han is sweating. They stumble into the village, Lu Han knocking into a young woman, who looks at them both in fright. Lu Han apologizes profusely in Mandarin, gestures at Joonmyun a little as he speaks quickly, the woman looking more and more worried as he continues. She gestures for them to follow, and Lu Han tugs on Joonmyun’s sleeve as they hurry after her. Joonmyun tries his best to keep up, even though it’s getting harder to breathe. The Sickness acts fast. Joonmyun could be dead within an hour.

They come to a small house a few minutes’ walk away; to Joonmyun, it feels like an eternity. He’s set down on a bed and Lu Han whispers, “Don’t worry. They found a cure weeks ago,” and Joonmyun’s eyelids feel so, so heavy. Someone leans over him and pours a cool liquid down his throat, and then everything goes black.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

He’s back again. This time it doesn’t make any sense, because he hasn’t had any of that water again, but he’s happy he’s there. Jongdae’s wrapped in a cocoon of blankets beside him, tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and immediately, Joonmyun feels awful. For hurting him, even when he’s already dead.

And that… that’s an idea. What if Joonmyun’s only here again because he’s _dead_? What if he doesn’t have to leave? It’d be so easy just to stay here forever, to forget about Lu Han and forget that he’s lost everything, because here, he _hasn’t_. Maybe his parents are here somewhere, all of his old friends from high school too, and maybe all Joonmyun’s got to do is step outside to try and find them. Joonmyun’s never wanted to die, not even after losing Jongdae, but now, it doesn’t seem so scary. Now, it doesn’t seem like too terrible a fate.

But when he reaches over to sweep Jongdae’s hair out of his eyes, he realizes what’s happened, or at least part of it. He’s not part of this world anymore, whatever it is; his hand passes right through Jongdae’s face, and he finds he can't touch _anything_ —not Jongdae, not the sheets around him, nothing. It’s like he’s a ghost, for now. But at least this means he can see Jongdae one last time, even if he’d rather it not be the last.

Jongdae rolls over in his sleep, clutching at the empty air on what was Joonmyun’s side of the bed, and frowns. Joonmyun thinks his heart aches, a little. And when Jongdae wakes up, he stares at the empty spot for a long time, looking sadder than Joonmyun’s ever seen him. “You knew it was going to happen,” he says quietly, and when he steps out of his room after dressing, movements slow, Joonmyun follows and finds Baekhyun sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast.

Baekhyun looks up from his rice, glancing at Jongdae for a moment before shaking his head sadly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But you knew it wouldn’t last. And we couldn’t pretend like he’d never left for forever.”

This isn’t what Joonmyun had expected. Maybe it hadn’t made sense when he’d been gone for months and everyone still acted the same when he came back, and maybe he’d thought this was all just a figment of his imagination, but maybe—maybe it’s not. Joonmyun never thought he’d believe in the supernatural, but that’s just what this is, isn’t it? This… This is too much to be just a hallucination.

Jongdae sighs. “I let myself believe,” he says. “I told myself maybe it could last forever. And it’s kind of selfish, to want him to be here, but how else can I ever see him again?”

“You’ll see him again one day,” Baekhyun says, and nudges Jongdae’s plate with one hand. “But before you think about it, eat. The food’s getting cold.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, and Joonmyun wishes he could take the sadness, the resigned acceptance in his eyes all away. And he wishes, too, that they wouldn’t have to say goodbye.  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Joonmyun wakes up feeling awful. There’s a bitter taste in the back of his throat, and his throat is terribly scratchy—but it’s not the same kind of scratchy it used to be, and his stomach doesn’t churn like it did anymore. So there _is_ a cure. If only, he thinks, it had taken less time to make it.

“You’re awake,” Lu Han says, and Joonmyun turns his head a little to find him sitting against the wall beside the cot Joonmyun’s laying on, a relieved (but tired) look on his face. “They said it worked, but I was worried. That maybe it wouldn’t.”

“Did you sleep?” Joonmyun frowns, taking in the dark circles that seem even more prominent than usual on Lu Han’s face, the sleepy droop to his eyelids.

“Don’t worry about me,” Lu Han shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“Sleep,” Joonmyun says, trying to get off the cot and switch places, but the moment he tries to sit up, he feels the aching in his bones. Everywhere.

Lu Han stands up and gently pushes his head back onto the pillow and tucks the blankets around him a little tighter. They’re so soft. Joonmyun can’t remember the last time he felt this warm, except for when—

“I’ll be okay,” Lu Han tells him. “Rest. They said it might take a while for you to get better. The Sickness does damage quickly, but it takes a lot longer to repair it all, so give it time. We’ve got plenty of it now.”

“I guess we do,” Joonmyun says, and closes his eyes. Time heals all wounds, doesn’t it?  


 

 

 

x

 

 

 

It’s a few weeks before he’s told he’s in good health again, and by then Lu Han has grown a little restless, having stayed by Joonmyun’s side for almost the entire time, only leaving to run errands for the doctor that lives in this house. Joonmyun can tell he’s just itching to leave.

“I’m going to leave for Beijing tomorrow. To see if my family’s still alive,” Lu Han says that day. “Will you stay with me?”

Joonmyun gives him a look. “Didn’t I promise?”

Lu Han shrugs. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t know if you’d still want to, now that we’re safe.”

“I can’t speak a word of Mandarin,” Joonmyun laughs. “How could I stay here without you?”

“I don’t know, I just—” Lu Han looks down. Joonmyun swears he can see a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and he smiles. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” Joonmyun grins.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Joonmyun says. They pinky swear on it like before, and this time it isn’t so grim. This time, they both smile.

They leave the next morning at dawn, setting off with bags of fresh food and extra bottles of water from the people they’ve stayed with. Joonmyun can’t remember the last time he felt so hopeful, and not just for himself—for Lu Han, and his family, and for everything to be okay, even after all of this.

They’ve been walking a few hours, this time the road much less empty, not so desolate, when Lu Han says, “About the bottle.”

Joonmyun’s eyes snap up to look at him immediately. He’d almost forgotten about that. Somehow, it's slipped his mind, after all this time, and he doesn’t remember seeing it in their bags when they’d been packing to leave, and he hasn’t seen it since… since they arrived, actually. “What about it?”

“Someone took it,” Lu Han says, and he sounds apologetic. “It was in my bag when I was buying food at the market the other day. One moment I had it, and the next, someone was running away with it, and he was out of my sight before I could even think to chase after him. I tried to find it again, but all I know is that he’s tall, and it’s not enough to identify someone. I didn’t even see his face. I’m really sorry, Joonmyun.”

Joonmyun swallows, hard. “It’s okay,” he says. And yeah, maybe it is. “Maybe it’s for the best. I can’t stay stuck in the past forever, right? I have to move on.”

“Yeah,” Lu Han says, and laces their fingers together as they walk. “It’ll be okay.”

“Besides,” Joonmyun says slowly, staring up at the sky, “I don’t think I miss it so much anymore. I think I just needed to see him again, one last time. I don’t need to lie to myself anymore.” And it’s true, he thinks; it feels almost as if a weight’s been lifted off of him, and thinking of Jongdae doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s easier now. “I think… maybe, I can be happy.”

Beijing isn’t too far, the old lady at the market had told them this morning, handing them each an apple. Just head northwest, and you’ll get there eventually. No one knows how things are over there, but she said Lu Han’s family would probably be okay. Joonmyun smiles at the thought, at the idea of Lu Han getting to see them again, and squeezes Lu Han’s hand a little tighter. Yeah, he thinks, everything’s going to be okay.


End file.
